


permafrost

by ProfessorSpork



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Goodbyes, Personal Growth, Sibling Bonding, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorSpork/pseuds/ProfessorSpork
Summary: “You’re my favorite person,” Elsa confesses to Anna’s neck, less because it sounds like the sort of important goodbye they should share before she leaves and more because it’s literally the only sentence running through her head.[or: the extended goodbye Frozen 2 didn't have the time to give us]
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	permafrost

**Author's Note:**

> for the tumblr prompt, "library, depression, lovely."

She really thought Anna would be the mess, is the thing.

Elsa’s taken her time with her farewells. Lingered in each and every room of the castle she’s called home for 24 years, drinking them in, making more permanent etchings in her mind’s eye. The bedroom that had been her haven and then a prison of her own making; the chapel where she’d accepted the mantle of leadership with shaking hands. (Anna’s mantle, now, as soon as all the arrangements are made.) The library she’d holed up in, in the late hours of the night—trying to empty herself of her loneliness, her helplessness, the listless, resigned inadequacy of her depression by pouring as many words as she could into her head, like the _knowing_ could drown out everything else. She cracks open the spine of an old favorite and inhales, relishing the scent of leather and ink, the recollections it evokes. She’s not that person, anymore.

And not all of the rooms feel quite so haunted. There’s the parlor where she learned to let herself be made fun of, just a little, as they all discovered how truly terrible she is at party games. The dining room table, covered in nicks and scratches, stains and burns, the remnants of countless meals with her loved ones. The courtyard where she’d first felt queenly; the stables and their promise of contained adventure. The ballroom, the portrait gallery, the lighthouse. All lovely. All loved.

Which is all to say that she’s been deliberate with her leave-taking; allowed herself room to mourn the life she’s had as she readies herself for the one that is to begin. She’s been thorough and responsible—just as she’s always been.

And yet she still finds herself devastated, when the day comes. It’s _Anna_ who’s smiling at her with a sort of warm serenity while Elsa takes deep, slow gulps of air to keep from weeping into her shoulder as they hug goodbye at the edge of the woods.

“You’re my favorite person,” Elsa confesses to Anna’s neck, less because it sounds like the sort of important goodbye they should share before she leaves and more because it’s literally the only sentence running through her head.

Anna squeezes her, fingers splayed across her shoulder blades. Steady. Sure. “You’re not half bad yourself,” she says back, and though the words are light her voice is _don’t panic_ and _do the magic_ and _I love you_ all at once. Elsa breathes her in, trying to commit everything about this embrace to memory, because it’s going to have to last her a while.

She pulls back. “Anna, I—”

“You have to go.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it suddenly occurs to Elsa that somehow, right under her nose, her sister’s grown up. _Queen Anna of Arendelle._ (And how much more growing up will Anna do while she’s gone? The idea of missing that is devastating. But the idea of staying, knowing just how much she doesn’t know… intolerable. There’s an itch between her shoulder blades and under her feet. A restlessness in her limbs. She needs to know how far they can carry her. Needs to learn to trust herself, her body, her abilities, outside of a world that was built for her.)

(She wants to do the building.)

She doesn’t know how to say these things. “I know, I just—”

“Anna, stop hogging her, you’re being rude,” Kristoff says from behind them, breaking the tension, and Elsa’s shoulders sag in relief. He adds, on Sven’s behalf, _“Yeah, I want a turn!”_

“Well, we can’t have Sven feeling neglected,” Elsa jokes, and if her chuckle is a bit watery as she lets go of her sister, no one feels the need to bring it up. She runs her fingers through the soft fur of the reindeer’s face, then up to scratch behind his ears; her forehead rests on his snout. “Take care of them for me, won’t you, buddy?”

Sven stands up a little straighter and snorts his affirmation. It seems pretty self-explanatory, but she still turns to Kristoff for a translation.

_“You’ve got it,”_ he vows. And then he’s lifting her high in the air to hug her—the way he does—and her heart lifts, too, at the sensation, as she’s spun in a circle. He puts her down and squeezes her tight, this mountain of a man who’s become her family.

“I’ll miss you,” he says simply, and something in her chest snags, because she’d kind of assumed he’d say _we’ll._ Him-and-Anna. But no, Kristoff will miss her all on his own, it seems. Just as she’ll miss him.

“I’ll be back so often you won’t even have time to,” she says. Trying to maintain his positivity, despite the nagging at the back of her head.

“…you promise?” asks a very tiny voice from somewhere below them. And just like that, Elsa’s carefully-constructed composure shatters, the tears she’d managed to hold back with Anna spilling free.

“Oh, _Olaf,”_ she sobs, falling to her knees and pulling the snowman into her arms. Her first and greatest miracle. She’s all-out bawling, now, chest heaving with hiccups as his little twig hands come around to pat her soothingly on the back. “Of course I do. I promise,” she eventually manages to sniffle, trying to get a hold of herself. “I’m so sorry, I’m crying all over you, you’ll melt—”

“No, I won’t,” he reassures her. “Permafrost, remember?”

She remembers. Solid ground beneath her feet. _Some things never change._

And she’s stronger than she thinks she is, now.

“You’re right.” She lets Olaf go and gets to her feet, scrubbing at her face and putting on a smile. “Okay. Okay. I’m ready.”

“Oh, one more for the road,” Anna says, and there it is—the catch in her voice Elsa’s been waiting for—and suddenly her arms are full as Anna sort of gently body-slams into her for one last hug.

“Well, if you insist,” Elsa agrees, holding on tight.

“D-don’t just send me letters all the time, okay?” Anna warbles. _“Talk_ to people. Make friends.”

“I will.”

“And it’s okay if you can’t always make it home when you thought you would,” she continues. “It’s okay to go. It’s okay to like it.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

They hug a moment longer, then two. Elsa lets Anna be the one who lets go.

“Have _fun,”_ Anna says, when she pulls away. “Enjoy it.”

“You, too,” Elsa murmurs. “Oh! Which reminds me.” She reaches for the trunk at her feet, the collection of belongings she’d thought were worth carrying forward into this next phase of her life. What she’s looking for is right at the top. “Here. I think you may need this more than I do.”

“Mother’s shawl?” Anna breathes, as Elsa wraps it around her shoulders.

“So you can keep me with you, even when I’m far away. You can keep all of us.”

Anna’s hands reach up automatically to clutch at the fabric, pulling it tighter around her. Her engagement ring winks in the dappled light. _“Elsa,”_ she whimpers, and Elsa hears what she can’t bring herself to say. _Go already. Go so you can come back._

“Alright, I’m going,” she says, and she means it.

She takes a step.


End file.
